The Coffee Shop
by callmeordinary
Summary: She's sitting in her usual spot, peering over the top of the steamy latte that she has cradled in her hands. She never really liked coffee; always insisted that the caffeine made her mind feel hazy. But here, she never misses the opportunity to order a cup. It gave them something in common. ModernAu & Zelinkkk.


Awhile back I was listening to Landon Pigg's "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop" and I guess I was inspired to write this. I thought it was cute, but since this is my first story I've ever published on here, I'm sure I made more than my fair share of mistakes. On the off chance you like this, let me know! And if you don't, tell me what I can do to make it better. Thank you so much!

I'm pretty sure I have to throw in some kind of disclaimer, so just so we're clear I don't own the Legend of Zelda franchise nor do I own the song "Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop". The people who do have my love and affection.

**The Coffee Shop**

Rain runs down the window beside her in thin ripples and she shrugs of her coat. She hasn't been here long – only a handful of minutes -but she feels as if she had been sitting in the cozy little booth for hours. The coffeehouse has a way of making one feel at home as soon as you walk in, where you can listen to the old record player croon and lose track of time. She wants to stay, but she had mentally decided that she wouldn't stay long when she walked in. She knew she had an early class to get to the next day. She's about to glance at the clock, but something catches her eye.

There he is again.

She's sitting in her usual spot, peering over the top of the steamy latte that she has cradled in her hands. She never really liked coffee; always insisted that the caffeine made her mind feel hazy. But here, she never misses the opportunity to order a cup. It gave them something in common.

He orders a large cup of the darkest roast they have, fishing out his wallet as the barista punches in the order into a computer. He hands her the exact change with that lopsided grin of his that, unsurprisingly, turns the poor girl into a gooey mess.

She takes a sip of her coffee, smiling at the all-too-familiar scene. He always did that. Not once since she started coming here did he ever fail to melt a girl with that grin of his. Hell, he could melt anybody with it. It didn't matter if you were a friend or a total stranger, a worker or a customer. He gave you that grin regardless.

She got her first glimpse of that grin about a year ago. She had been fresh out of high school, just settled down in a new town when she found this place on the way home one day. It was small, and unimposing; tucked between dozens of old, brick buildings in the scenic part of town. She had walked past it for weeks before she finally saw it. After that, she found that she was always drawn to the fading sign outside the coffeehouse for a reason that she couldn't put her finger on. She looked for the chalkboard sign that had "Din's Fire," every time she passed it. She thought the name was clever, seeing how they advertised their own homemade coffee roast.

When she finally wandered in one day, she remembered sitting down with a mug of hot chocolate while an old man in a particularly foul mood stomped into the coffeehouse, bellowing something that sounded more like an insult than an order for a cappuccino. The wiry barista who had been working the register back then looked scared, and rang the old man up with a record time. She remembered the old man furiously tapping on the wood floors with his cane as he waited for his coffee, and how the noise made everyone else in the shop shrink back with dread – everyone, except for the other barista who was making his drink. After a few agonizing minutes, the drink was finished. She remembered the boy grinning as he handed the old man his cup, saying "_Enjoy your latte, sir._"

It was at this point that she remembered the chill that settled in the coffeehouse, a sense of foreboding that was stronger than the feeling a fisherman gets before a hurricane. The boy had gotten the order wrong. The old man had ordered a cappuccino, but the boy handed him a latte. Everyone in the coffeehouse had frozen in their seats. The man's face had turned a menacing shade of purple with a vein on his forehead that looked as if it was going to burst any second. Everyone, including herself, was sure that the old man was going to explode. Yet, the lopsided grin never faltered.

The boy was a goner, she had been sure of it. Just thinking about when she watched the old man's brutal stare from behind the safety of her chipped mug gave her the chills all over again. Even with a gaze that would rival Medusa's, the boy only continued to smile earnestly as he held out the latte. After a few more, nail-biting seconds, the old man snatched his cup from the boy's hands, and walked out the door without a word.

She liked to think that the reason she kept coming to the coffee shop was because of that day. They say that the first impression is the most important, and she completely supported the notion. The collective gasp that filled the coffee house and the amazement that filled her from watching the scene unfold was something that she would never forget.

A grin like that was powerful. Some would call it a blessing. Some would call it a curse. She would agree with the former. It was the kind of smile where you could _feel_ how genuine it was. He grinned like he knew exactly the kind of person that you were, and that in that moment, you were the only person he truly wanted to see.

You only saw a smile like that maybe two, three times in your life.

She was incredibly lucky to have seen that smile a few days every week for the past year.

She took another sip of her coffee and enjoyed the warmth that bloomed in her stomach and seeped into her skin. She had added a few sugar cubes and a massive splash of cream to remedy the taste of the light roast that she had ordered, but it remained bitter. Though, it wasn't unpleasant. Every sip she took felt like swallowing sunlight – overwhelming at first, but lovely nonetheless.

She wondered what coffee tasted like to him as the barista handed him his mug of the drink he had ordered. He never added any cream or sugar, and today was no different as he headed straight for an empty table not far from the doors. Maybe he never added anything because he enjoyed the rich, oily French roast that they served here as it was. Maybe it tasted like sunlight to him too.

The rain started to pick up.

Big, saucer shaped raindrops splattered against the window, and the sound nearly drowned out the Weezer song that was playing. She absently reached for her purse to check her phone for any messages from her roommate, hoping that there would be a text asking her to bring something back for the redhead to drink, but she decided against it. She was only looking for an excuse to stay longer. Knowing completely well that her mug was near empty – only a few droplets of coffee left –she pulled her hand out of her bag and reluctantly began tugging her jacket on.

An unfinished coffee was all that could make her stay now and a part of her felt bitter that she hadn't drank it slower. But, she had to get on the 7:00 train before the rain became too heavy or before it became too late. Not to mention she had to get home and prepare for her early class the next morning.

When she walked in she told herself that she was going to stay until 6:00, but now, she saw the plastic hands pointing to 6:30. Her time in the café had run its course.

Scooting out of the booth, she looped her purse and book bag around her shoulders. She wasted a few more minutes making sure that her textbooks would be protected from the rain by tucking them deeper into her backpack.

The record player began playing a Landon Pigg song that she vaguely recognized as she drank the last few drops of sunlight. Cradling the mug in her hands, she brought it to the register and quietly dropped a few rupees into the tip jar before returning the empty cup to the barista.

The coffee shop had never seemed more inviting as she began tucking her wallet back into her purse on her way towards the door. Somehow, probably because she was distracted by the soothing smell of coffee, the wallet slipped from her fingers and tumbled to the floor. A dozen or so rupees spilled out, and she quickly dropped to the ground to collect them. On her way down, her shoulder bumped into a table, causing whoever's drink was on it to spill to the floor. Her cheeks flushed instantly from embarrassment.

"Oh goddesses," she gasped, eyes widening with horror as coffee pooled onto the floor. Her first instinct was to grab the napkins off the table and clean her mess before she could ruin the wood floors. "I'm so sorry!"

The man at the table laughed. "No, no, it's okay. It was an accident."

She kept her head low as she mopped up the remains of a French roast. It was everywhere. "I'm so so so sorry," she muttered, her cheeks getting darker by the second. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see pair of black jeans drop to the floor.

"No worries. Here," a slender hand appeared in front of her holding a few rupees. She lifted her head, shocked to see a familiar lopsided grin aimed at her. She graciously scooped them out of his hands and hastily poured them into her wallet, ducking her head so he couldn't see her red face. She felt like she was glowing. That grin of his had never been directed at her before. But then again, the warmth she felt could be from her cheeks that were currently dappled with embarrassment.

The boy pulled a few more napkins off the table and helped her sop up the rest of his drink.

"Goddesses, I'm so sorry," she repeated, more embarrassed than ever.

The boy laughed. It sounded like a wind chime. "It's okay, really. I was nearly finished anyways."

He picked up the soaking napkins and threw them in the trash bin before helping her collect her remaining rupees. After the floor was all cleaned up, the two stood up.

"Thank you," she laughed awkwardly. She felt self-conscious as she wiped her hands on her jacket, but the feeling went away when she eyed the coffee stains on his pants. Guilt flooded her cheeks.

"No no, it's fine. They're old." he explained after following her gaze. "I've been trying to find a reason to throw them out for years."

This only made her feel worse. "You didn't have to get down on the floor," she said shamefully. "I could've cleaned it up by myself and saved you the trouble."

She noticed a twinkle in his eyes. She didn't realize how blue they were until now. They reminded her of sapphires. "Nonsense. Leaving a damsel in distress would be against my nature."

"So chivalry isn't _completely_ dead," she laughed, feeling a little dumb from her cliché comment. Unsure of what else to say, she made sure that her wallet was tucked safely in her purse so she could avoid another embarrassing situation like this. She lifted her head to look back at the boy. "Thank you for your help," she smiled sheepishly.

The boy studied her for a moment before smiling back. "The pleasure's all mine."

She started to make her way out the door, but the boy grabbed her attention before she could open it.

"Hey," he called after her. "Do I know you? You seem familiar."

She paused, shaking her head. "No, I don't think we've met before."

He walked towards her and extended his hand. "Well in that case, I'm Link Forester. It's nice to meet you… er-"

"Zelda," she said, taking his hand. "Zelda Nohansen. It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Forester."

They shook hands for a moment before they let go. Link put his hands into his pockets as she curled her hand around the doorknob. They were only a few feet away from each other.

"Are you sure we've never met?" he asked again, a note of skepticism in his voice.

"I'm sure," she answered. "This is the first time we've been introduced."

Link shook his head slightly, chuckling to himself. "Odd. I'm sure I've seen you here before."

She shrugged. "Maybe you have. You seem familiar too, now that you mention it."

"Huh." He glanced at the empty mug on the table. "Well, maybe you can repay me for my coffee and talk about how we might know each other sometime, Ms. Nohansen," he grinned. "How about tomorrow at 8?"

She grinned back. "I'd like that."

And with that, Zelda pulled the door open and disappeared into the rain towards the train station, a secret smile resting on her lips.

She never knew what she liked so much about that little, unimposing coffeehouse until now.


End file.
